


Dead and Breakfast

by dragoon811



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bed & Breakfast, Complete, Crookshanks the matchmaker, F/M, Soul-Searching, Vacation, Vampire Sex, sexy romps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-06 03:29:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20500136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragoon811/pseuds/dragoon811
Summary: Severus needs a vacation. Hermione has been missing for years. Can they reconnect?





	1. A Vacation to Die For

**Author's Note:**

> **Author’s Note:** Yeah, I blame this plot bunny on my work’s Halloween decorations for sale three years ago now...and tbh any excuse for pointless smut. Many thanks to Worry for beta-reading the first chapter for me. :) Hope you all enjoy!

**A Vacation to Die For**

Severus Snape was tired. Despite his frequent Occlumency use to block out his mostly-unwanted emotions and troubles, he was feeling sluggish, peevish, irritable, and downright exhausted. Nothing was really helping, and he was, frankly, to the point where he wasn’t feeling much of anything other than the desire for sleep.

It wasn’t that his life was a bad one. It was a shit one. He was lonely, overworked, hounded every time he stepped outside of the school gates... Minerva kept trying to set him up with various witches—and on one particularly embarrassing occasion, a wizard—and had been trying to coax him into socialising with the staff, but he couldn’t be bothered. He was barely able to keep up with his grading, hadn’t showered in three days, and had had his classes brewing because he was finding it difficult to lecture.

...And it was merely a few weeks into the scholastic year. This did not bode well.

A possible solution presented itself one soggy grey morning as he pushed porridge around in his bowl without really eating it. Filius had left his morning paper—a Muggle one that the diminutive charms professor enjoyed the puzzles from—and Severus had, out of habit more than interest, scanned the headlines when an advert half-obscured by egg yolk caught his eye.

A weekend get-away.

He mulled over the thought through the course of the day, mechanically teaching his classes and keeping the little idiots from annihilating themselves. He could easily take a weekend off. Minerva would ask questions, but he wasn’t prone to answering her on the best of days so she would likely take it in stride. He would have to arrange for someone to watch his House, but Rolanda was reliable.

Severus absently swirled a glass of brandy with one hand, the quill in his other dangling precariously towards the uncaring floor.

When was the last time he had actually taken time off? He didn’t count the summers, as there were still lessons to plan, cauldrons to inspect and replace, ingredients to stock and order, references to write for graduated Slytherins, avoid the press, avoid the fans and those who despised him every time he tried to go anywhere. When was the last time he had felt _alive_?

For that matter, when was the last time he had spoken to anyone that wasn’t about the war or classes or potions or where-the-hell-was-his-order of this or that?

His brow furrowed, and he took another swallow.

He had a nasty suspicion that it had been years ago, when Minerva had blackmailed him into attending Potter’s wedding. He’d ended up seated next to Granger, and after she had goaded him into a fight rather than ignoring her, they had had a decent conversation.

Of course, they’d also both gotten proper pissed and had a rather good snog in a dark corner. Often, he found himself regretting not answering her owls after, especially after she’d dropped off the face of the earth. Sighting Granger was akin to the Muggles and their UFOs, and the speculation abounded. 

Severus scowled into his brandy and finished it, shuddering as the burn wound its way down his throat.

Yes, if he was reminiscing about Granger again, it was most _definitely_ time for a vacation.

* * *

It took several Floo calls before he finally found a travel agent whom he could tolerate, didn’t revile or celebrate him—in fact, the man seemed to have no idea who he was—and had contacts in the Muggle world. The downside was that by this point he was exhausted and miserable and the Floo connection was terrible.

“Yes,” Severus snapped into the fire for the sixth time. He knew he looked ridiculous with his arse pointing in the air so he could shove his face into the green flames. “I want just the weekend.”

“Yes, Mr-_ksssht_-know just the-_kssht_-ed and breakfast to suit you-_hsssst_\- eeds.”

“What’s the address?”

“It’s probably better if I-_hiss_-end it to you to you by owl, as our-_ksssssht_-tion seems to be unstable.”

“Very well.” Anything to end the bloody call.

“You a-_ksht_-Hogwarts’, yes?”

“Yes,” he bit out.

“Thank you, and—”

Severus pulled his head out of the fire and sat back on his heels before the damn thing could hiss and sputter and crackle again. He heaved a sigh and stared listlessly at the ceiling. Damn bed and breakfast had better be worth it.

* * *

In the end, the agent had sent him only minimal information. The address in Wales with a glossy photo of the house, and of course the bill. The fee was outrageous—especially the one for changing Galleons to pounds—but Severus frankly didn’t care. He was getting out of Hogwarts for an entire weekend.

He did his best to transfigure a suitcase out of his trunk—it wasn’t quite perfect, but would pass an inspection by all but Minerva—and select Muggle attire. He’d even made a conscious effort to leave behind any potions journals or books and instead had ordered some interesting-sounding titles from Flourish and Blotts’. If he needed a break, he was bloody well going to do it properly.

* * *

The late October morning was rather soggy and overcast as he popped into existence in the little warded alcove next to the bus station, but he didn’t mind it. He was actually feeling something—a little tingle of anticipation—as he joined the throng of Muggles, suitcase in one hand and a map in the other.

The little town was pleasant, quaint in a way that Cokeworth wasn’t, and he could smell the faintest hint of salt in the air the further he got from the main streets. No flowers bloomed this time of year, and the leaves were mushy underfoot, rather than crunchy, but it didn’t bother him in the least. If there was a small bounce in his step, there was no one to see it. The side streets were deserted, and that suited him. His steps slowed and he began to admire the natural landscape.

It was overcast and gloomy and damp. Much the same as Scotland, but different. Severus rather enjoyed it, actually. Maybe if he survived to retirement he would buy property here. The thought of finally torching Spinner’s End cheered him.

He followed the path his map indicated, uncaring that the area was isolated. When Severus finally reached the house, he was surprised that the photo didn’t do it justice. It was an old house, clearly, but he could see the signs of modernization, like the meter on the side. 

The brick building had a sprawling garden, and he was surprised that half of the blooms still in season were the night-blooming variety. Clearly, the proprietor wanted their home to be beautiful at all times of day. The attention to detail made him feel even better about his reservation.

It was a sizable house, with a smaller, attached building that he assumed was for staff, or perhaps where the owner resided. The windows were large and clean, and through the glass he could see heavy curtains.

Severus opened the gate, giving the ivy-covered sign a glance, then took a double-take. ‘Dead and Breakfast’? The vacancy sign hanging below that was a different colour, and he stared at it. Well it was October. Perhaps the owners liked to celebrate holidays.

Indeed, as the front door was opened for him, he saw a Halloween-themed decorative piece on the hall table. So it wasn’t perfect. Themed decor and terrible puns. But he could live with it.

“Mr. Snape?” the young man inquired. He was a non-descript sort of person, with pale hair and watery blue eyes. Utterly unremarkable, and had an unobtrusive manner about him.

“Snape,” he corrected. It was a simple enough name, how could the fellow possibly mispronounce it so badly?

“Sorry, sir. Welcome to the inn; you may come in. May I take your bag, sir?”

Severus hesitated only a moment before handing it over. There was nothing overtly magical in it except a fiction book, and his wand was in its holster under his sleeve.

“Thank you, sir. You’ll be staying in the blue room. Would you like me to show you your room, or would you prefer a tour first?”

“Tour,” Severus said decidedly.

“Yes, sir.”

The inside of the bed and breakfast was neatly kept, and the holiday decor was blessedly minimal. He’d come to escape Hogwarts, after all, and Minerva was one for celebrations, often going over the top. It didn’t help that Filius was just as bad.

The young man, who still hadn’t bothered to introduce himself but was as interesting as milk toast, continued the tour. The dining room, where the morning and evening repasts were served. The sitting room, which boasted quite a library, the kitchenette for guests to prepare themselves tea, the kitchen door—off limits to guests—and the narrow staircase that led to the guest rooms.

There were three bedrooms and three others that had once been bedrooms but since converted to private baths. Severus was grateful for that, as it only now occurred to him that he didn’t particularly desire to share his space with a stranger.

“And this is your room, Mr. Snape.”

Absently, Severus corrected him on the pronunciation of his name again as he followed him into the room. It was well-appointed, clean, and the curtains blocked out all light, affording him all the privacy he could want.

“Is it satisfactory, sir?” The young man set his luggage down on a small ottoman by a rather plush chair.

“Indeed.” He tipped him, to the young man’s surprise, before summarily escorting him out and closing the door behind him.

Ah, peace and quiet.

No potions. No students. No lesson plans. No grading. No Quidditch. No Hogwarts. No one demanding anything from him except that he wander down for dinner.

Severus unpacked with a flick of his wand, clothes settling into the proper drawers, shoes stowing themselves in the bottom of the closet. He gave a thought to tea, discarded it, and instead settled himself into the plush chair. His sock-clad feet sank into the throw rug and he found himself relaxing far more quickly than he had anticipated. Maybe it was the room, the privacy, or just the knowledge that no one knew him.

He lifted his head from the book in his hands and stared at the wall.

No one knew him.

No one could judge him for anything but how he interacted with them right now, this very weekend. _He could be someone entirely different_.

The freedom was exhilarating, and he spent a solid quarter hour with his book held limply in his lap as he spun potential lives for a new Severus. He could be a teacher, a well-liked and well-respected one, or a researcher in a very boring field. A chemist, perhaps. An author, perhaps published only locally, or recently hired on. He could be a Lothario, even if his last romantic encounter had been Granger and hadn’t progressed nearly far enough. He could be a world traveller, returning home for a respite before setting off again. Never mind that he had zero inclination of travelling. Finally, he shook his head, clearing the obvious delusions from his mind. Well, it wouldn’t matter once he returned to the school. He would fabricate himself for the weekend and if it went well, he could carry the memory with him as some sort of solace. And if it didn’t, well who would know?

* * *

Refreshed after several chapters and quite peckish, Severus was rather grateful when the clock chimed the dinner hour.

He dog-eared his place in the book and tossed it onto the bed before slipping into a blazer. He even combed his hair back, hoping its lankness would then be assumed to be some sort of pomade. Affixing the thought that he was a science teacher, he sedately made his way down stairs, only to be terribly disappointed.

There were no other guests, Kevin—the young man—had explained. Their flight had been delayed, so Severus was on his own this evening, and would he like a cup of coffee after his meal? Severus accepted the drink and spent his dinner poking at the food on his plate and well aware he was brooding.

What was the point to take a vacation to escape the school and monotony if he was met with only himself for companionship?

Despite his sour frame of mind, the meal was excellent and he could not fault the cooking. The tea was properly steeped, and the coffee was very aromatic. He just had been looking forward to being someone else, to have his company actually enjoyed, rather than tolerated. 

After dinner, he retreated back to his room and debated reading some more.

Severus pondered it, then decided to fuck it all and take a tub with his book. He never had time at school, what with a student or staff always wanting something or other. May as well enjoy the peace and quiet.

He padded into the bathroom to inspect it. Clean, neatly kept; he could find no fault in it. A small basket of sundries, including some for the bath. The towels were soft, large, and fluffy. Severus disrobed methodically, folding each article on the counter as he removed them. He ran the water while he relieved himself, and was pleased that it heated quickly.

Adding the offered bottle of foaming bath milk, he lowered himself into the steaming tub and got comfortable. It wasn’t nearly as deep as the bathtubs in his quarters at Hogwarts, but it was relaxing, even if his bony knees were exposed to the somewhat chill air of the room if he wanted his chest to be partially submerged.

Sometime after his bath, naked no longer and instead in a worn-soft grey nightshirt, Severus snapped his book shut and set it upon the bedside table. He was tiring of the lackluster, unobtainable romance side plot. A quick, careless wave of his wand set a light alarm to warn him of any approaching witch or wizard, and he found himself drifting off to sleep wondering again about Hermione Granger, and how when she had kissed him he had felt alive.

* * *

It was dark when Hermione awoke, as it so often was. Just then she couldn’t blame the sun or the heavy drapes, but rather the fat and fluffy arse of her demanding familiar, who had seated himself on her face and was purring loudly in an attempt to force her to rise and feed him.

With the long-practiced annoyance of all cat owners, she rather unceremoniously shoved him off onto the floor, where he sat with his bottlebrush tail curled over his paws and his squashed face disapproving of her treatment of him and gave her a rolling growl.

“Shut it,” she muttered grumpily. She wasn’t a morning person; never had been, and clearly never would be.

Miffed, Crooks turned and led the way out of her bedroom. She didn’t follow, instead holding her pounding head. She was exhausted, having spent most of her energy on shoving her demanding cat off of her face. She sat for several slow heartbeats, gathering the strength to get up. Crooks wanted his breakfast, to be sure, and she clearly needed something of her own.

Wondering when she had eaten last, Hermione padded carefully to the kitchen. Probably too long ago.

Crooks sat by his dish, and as soon as she made eye contact he meowed plaintively.

“Yes, I know,” she snapped. She opened the fridge and chewed nervously on her lip before giving in and pulling out the bottle clearly labelled as cranberry juice. It was too light, and the label felt cold and slick under her hands. Still, she cancelled the stasis charm, opened it, and poured the scant remainder of red liquid into a glass.

Just as she went to back up, however, Crooks decided to do what all cats do best and wind between her legs, tripping her.

“Damn it!” Hermione cried, her free arm flailing. In an attempt not to step on him, she dropped the glass. It shattered, and she froze with a low moan of horror.

“Crooks, you wicked beast!” she chided. He ignored her and the fact that she had an entire cupboard of fresh food for him and instead began to lap up her much-needed sustenance. It disappeared entirely too quickly, not that she really wanted to lick it off the floor. She’d only been that desperate once and really didn’t want to repeat the experience.

* * *

Once she’d gotten the mess cleaned up, the cup fixed with a quick Reparo, and Crookshanks fed a proper meal, Hermione began methodically gathering her equipment. She should have asked Kevin yesterday if they had had any reservations made. It was too soon to use him again, not that she liked to modify his memory so much.

Still, it was probably her only option. She’d never make it all the way into town.

With trembling fingers, Hermione opened the guest book and sighed with relief at the spiky, illegible scrawl over the last line. A guest!

It took her almost no time to make her way to the door connecting her small domicile to the inn. Her skin tingled with anticipation as she climbed the stairs, her fingers clutching the railing. She didn’t require the small safety lights she’d had installed along the hall when she’d purchased the house to find her way silently across the rug. Her bare feet felt each fiber, and the door knob of the blue room was cold under her fingertips.

She hadn’t even had to check which room was occupied, but rather was pulled to it. Her master key unlocked it with a quiet click. The room was dark, the sole occupant of the bed still save for the rise and fall of their chest.

Hermione listened to the deep, snuffling breaths for a moment, ensuring they were even before crossing to the bed. She deposited the syringe and vials on the bedside table. She pulled an arm out, undoing the row of tiny buttons at the cuff of the nightshirt and pulled it up so she could use the tourniquet.

When she slid the fabric up the arm, admiring the steady thrum of the blue veins on the wrist, Hermione froze at the sight of the silvered, tattoo-like scarring on the arm. Her hands clenched reflexively; the arm under her fingers jerked and she found herself staring at the lit end of a wand, the silvery cast of the silent Lumos revealing the large hooked nose, sharp cheeks, and overall surprised face of Severus Snape.

Her mouth opened and closed several times before with a squeak she let go of him and Disapparated.

Severus blinked, disoriented, unsure if he was still asleep, for he had been dreaming again of her on his lap in that ridiculous velvet dress as she pulled on his hair, urging... Then he caught the faint aftermath of the surge of her magic and frowned. How had she avoided his alarm?

The image of her, her face pale and haggard beneath the wild bush of her hair, the discarded needle and vials on the bedside table, was crystallized in his mind. What had happened to her?

He found himself not thinking as he leapt from the bed, reaching out to catch the trail of her magic with his own, and following her blindly.

For her part, Hermione reappeared in her kitchen. Her heart was pounding, an unusual experience. Of all the people she didn’t want to show up at her inn, he really was the last. Her head snapped up, nostrils flaring, as he appeared beside her with a _crack!_.

“Stop!” she cried. “Don’t come any closer, please!” This close, with him awake and alert, she could hear his heartbeat, feel it call to her. She backed up against the counter. “Please, Severus.”

His given name on her lips stopped him mid-step.

“You...”

Well, it was nice to see him at a loss for words, she had to admit, but still, his voice washing over her had pebbled her skin.

“You’re real,” he finished lamely.

“Well, yes,” Hermione replied breathlessly. She couldn’t take her eyes off of the throbbing artery in his exposed neck.

“What the hell happened to you?” he snapped. He studied her almost hungrily, his blood singing. It was as if everything was clicking into place. Colours seemed brighter, the air easier to breathe. Trite, but true.

“It’s a long story.”

“I have time.”

“No you don’t.” She shook her head. “You need to leave.” Almost unbidden, she reached for him before recoiling.

They stood at an impasse in her tidy kitchen for a long moment. Distantly, she noted that his nightshirt fell to his knees and his feet were bare. It was more of him than she had ever seen, and still not enough. She had wanted so much more.

The light cast by his wand illuminated her, and he compared his mental image from Potter’s wedding to the woman before him. She hadn’t seemed to age, and slowly a rather nasty thought crept into his mind. The sign. The syringe and tourniquet, the vials.

“You’re a vampire,” he said flatly.

Her eyes closed as if in pain. “Yes.”

“I’m sorry,” she added a moment later.

His brow rose, incredulous. “Sorry?”

Hermione shook her head. “You need to leave. Please. It’s been too long and...I can’t. Not from you.”

“Doesn’t your sire take care of you?” He lowered his wand and took a few steps backwards across the cold tile. Now that he knew what she had become, it was easier to see the signs. She was nearly starved, and the thought angered him. Hermione Granger was better than this. Deserved better.

“He can’t.” Her grip on the counter top lessened. “It’s complicated, but I take care of him.”

“Ridiculous.” Assuming she was turned when she disappeared, she was naught more than a fledgling. No fledgling could care for a proper sire. “Why do you not have sustenance?”

“I ran out.” Her eyes were dilated, he noticed, and changed his breathing to help calm his racing heart. He knew better than to excite a vampire. “There’s usually more guests, and I don’t really like using Kevin.”

Jealously flashed through his mind at the thought of it. “Is that why the bed and breakfast?”

“I can’t steal from blood banks; Muggles need that. And I can’t bring myself to go and bite anyone unwilling.” Were her eyes playing tricks on her, but did the muscle in his jaw jump as those words? “I can’t go around giving potions to Muggles, and I’m too well known to even attempt sourcing through the wizarding world or even risking a jaunt to Knockturn. Polyjuice doesn’t work on vampires.”

“Why not add Blood Replenisher to an existing sample? Surely that would sustain you.”

Hermione snorted. “I tried. It doesn’t work on Muggle blood, so here I am, stealing from sleeping Muggles who pay me for the privilege.”

“An elegant solution.”

She studied him, but he seemed genuine.

“Perhaps if I offer my own to you?” he found himself saying before he could process the thought. She inhaled sharply, her fingers once more clenching her counter.

“I was warned that magical blood can be...addictive.” Her cheeks flushed silver in the wandlight. “It’s not something I should rely on, especially not from the same donor.”

Again, the thought rose unbidden of her mouth on his, her legs around his waist, the letters that sat unanswered in his desk. He wanted to help her. Had regretted not contacting her. And now he knew where to find her, how to make her rely on him. A better man would not have such thoughts of her addicted to his taste.

But he was not a better man.

“A large enough donation with the potion would sustain you indefinitely, and I myself am more than capable of handling the blood loss with the same potion.”

Hermione wavered, just a moment. There was no way the man she’d wanted for years would just be offering himself up on a silver platter. Not the same man who had kissed her like he was drowning and then ignored her missives. Not the same man who had let her in, just enough, as a woman grown, to see that he could be wickedly funny and not just cruel. Movement caught her attention, and she took her eyes from him to see Crooks in the doorway, staring at them.

She had wanted him for so very long, but she didn’t want him if it wasn’t real.

“Stop it,” she said, suddenly angry as pieces fell into place. “Damn it, Crooks!”

Severus turned as the feline looked away with a chagrined expression on his squashed face. His eyes narrowed.

“I don’t care if you only gave him a nudge,” she snapped. “Don’t do it again. I can handle this myself.”

The cat regarded her again and her jaw worked for a moment. “No. I mean it. I won’t do it.”

He studied them both. Her half of the conversation was illuminating.

“Well. That’s an unusual predicament.”

Hermione’s head whipped towards him. “I’m so sorry, Severus. Really. You should leave. Please.”

“No.” His mind was whirling. It wasn’t unprecedented. Vampires had turned their familiars before, but for a familiar to turn their witch or wizard? He flicked his hand at the doorway, the door flying shut and trapping her cat on the other side. He focused on his thoughts for a moment, shielding himself. “How did it happen?”

She hung her head. “Please don’t tell.”

“I promise,” he found himself saying. Part of him knew it was the lingering effects of Crookshanks’ thrall, but the rest of him knew he wasn’t going to betray her. He had missed her for too long. Regrets had crystallized within his mind, and he was well aware of what he wanted now...and how to get it.

Hermione sighed, still clinging to the counter like it was the only thing keeping her from leaping upon him. “It was an accident,” she admitted. “I was working on some legislation and, well, long story short, he made a pass at me, Crooks got between us and got hurt—there was blood everywhere from his claws, and he bit the vampire rather badly, I must admit—and that was enough of an exchange to turn him.”

She took a deep breath.

“I was afraid the Ministry would put Crooks down, so I hid it. The vampire involved kindly agreed not to tell, and everything was going okay until I tried to trim his claws and he moved and I went to deep and...Another bad exchange. I should have taken precautions but it had been _months_ and I honestly thought I had everything handled. So I resigned and just...disappeared. It wasn’t hard to buy the inn, and the rest is pretty self-explanatory.” She gave him a wry smile. “It’s not bad, really.”

She bit at her lip. She wanted to tell him that she’d wanted to keep reaching out to him, but hadn’t dared. Why make herself an easier target? Not that he was particularly intimidating at the moment, looking ponderous and wearing nothing but a grey nightshirt in her kitchen. She stared at his bare feet again as her belly flipped, fighting want and hunger.

“What is it like?” Severus asked. “Being a vampire.”

Her eyes softened as they returned to his face. “Sometimes, like now, it’s hard. It’s lonely, or at least for me. But the rest... it’s beautiful. I don’t know how to describe it. I can see details I missed before. It’s the first time in recent memory I’ve ever felt alive.” Her cheeks flushed that curious shade again. “Well, except once, but that’s...not important. It’s hard to explain, I suppose.”

Severus trembled down to his fingertips.

“Show me,” he said hoarsely. Their eyes met again and he found himself whispering the spell, plunging into her mind. She let him in, utterly defenceless.

He was spun into memory, how the very air felt electric. The thrum of a pulse. Colours brighter, even in the night. Textures sharper. Details clearer, down to veins on leaves. Emotions higher, more reachable. He followed that, caught wild glimpses of the last time they had met, the accompanying ties vivid. Severus found himself ejected as he tried to follow that memory down.

“Sorry,” she gasped. “I...”

But then he was crossing the kitchen, gathering her into his arms and kissing her soundly. He vaguely heard the crack of her kitchen counter snapping as she gripped it even tighter, and then her arms were around his back, tangling in his over-grown hair. He had a fleeting thought that he really was about a year overdue for a trim, but then it didn’t matter as his thoughts dissolved into a heady rush.

He had waited far too long to kiss her again.

Hermione threw herself into the kiss almost reverently. She’d wanted this again, but with her heightened senses it was utter bliss. She could taste everything, smell everything, _feel_ everything. She kissed him with abandon, sucking his tongue into her mouth as he groaned, the sound rattling through her.

Every nerve sang as he gathered her even closer. His heart pounded as he felt utterly alive. He pulled back when he needed more air than even his prodigious nose could provide. “I missed you,” he found himself confessing. “I regretted not writing you.”

“I wish I’d tried harder,” she replied, her eyes huge and dark with desire. She smiled and he caught sight of her elongated eye-teeth. It didn’t disturb him as much as it should have, but she realised what he’d seen and closed her lips, her passion dying as quickly as it had been kindled. “Sorry, I—”

“Do not be. It is only natural for you to hunger...” his voice caressed the last word and she flushed, still breast to chest with him. Severus caged her gently in one arm and lifted her chin to kiss her again, lingering over her sweet lips. She responded with a gentle moan that sent tingles down his spine. He broke the kiss too soon, and she gazed up at him, confused.

“I have Blood Replenisher in my bag,” Severus said.

“Are—are you still offering to let me bite you?” Hermione was incredulous. “Are you certain?”

“Yes.” He kissed her again, because he needed to. Everything felt right. This was the only time he had felt alive since he’d seen her last. He needed this, needed _her_...and he needed her to need him, too. And her cat approved, which had to be something.

“And later I will brew you a cauldronful.” Her knees went weak at his offer. No more stealing from guests. No more hoarding and rationing and living on the brink of starvation.

“You have no idea what this means to me.” Her cheeks were flushed. “Severus, I can never thank you enough.”

He shook his head, unable to dislodge the lump in his throat. “I was selfish before, with you. I won’t be again.” Regretfully, he released her, uncaring that it would be blatantly obvious how her kisses had affected him. “I will return shortly.”

Pondering his words, she gave him a lopsided smile. “I’ll be here. I’m just going to let Crooks out to hunt or whatever.”

* * *

Severus was quick as he Apparated back into his room. It immediately felt cold to him, and lonely. He stared at the disturbed bed for a moment, running through his options and the most likely paths the night’s activities would bring.

He was a decisive man, and none of the outcomes were unfavourable to him. The least favourable was her only feeding from him and not taking that kiss farther. The most favourable, well...what he’d seen in her mind had appealed to him. If she drained him to the point of death, he would welcome her bringing him back.

Ideally, he thought, sorting through his toiletry kit to find the Blood Replenisher potion masked as body wash, she would feed from him. He would brew for her, enough to sustain her indefinitely, and then he would convince her to turn him. As his sire, she could care for him easily, and he’d have a new life.

When he returned to her kitchen, the counter was repaired, and she was sitting. Despite her stillness, she exuded a nervous energy that said she would have been pacing if she had had the strength. Hermione’s lips twitched into a smile.

“You came back.”

Severus frowned. “I had said I would.”

Her eyes darted to the bottle in his hand, her mouth parting before she snapped it shut.

“Do you have a brewing space?” he asked, resisting the urge to step closer. “Ingredients?”

“Yes.” Her gaze moved to his face.

“Good. I will brew it tomorrow.” He studied her again, admiring her control. He doubted, from her own words and her mind, that she had fed from anyone before. He had ‘donated’ once in his youth, on the Dark Lord’s orders in his bid to recruit a clan as a test of Severus’s loyalty, and knew it would be unpleasant for him, but for her, it was worthwhile. “Come here, Hermione.”

She stood as if entranced, her eyes never leaving his as she closed the space between them. “Severus, what if I—”

“Then you bring me back,” he murmured. She was toe to toe with him, and he caressed the side of her face gently. “Though I doubt you would bring me harm.”

She shivered in his arms and reached to kiss him again. The clink of the vial being set on the table made her nerves as electric as his kisses. The way he moulded to her body, pulling her against him, made her pulse race. It was like she was made for him.

The kiss went from languid to passionate, and as his heart sped within the cage of his chest her hunger rose, too. Soon she was kissing his jaw, nipping along his neck, down to where it met his shoulder...and then she bit, her teeth sinking deep.

Severus gasped, his knees nearly buckling. That wasn’t at all what he had expected. Before, it had been a pain lancing from his neck, through his body, but this... he was harder than he’d ever been, feeling flushed and aroused as she fed from him. There was no pain, only pure euphoria and pleasure. His cock throbbed between them as she suckled his neck as if it was the part of him with her mouth wrapped around it and he moaned, low and long and deep. His hand buried itself in her mad curls, holding her to his neck as his other hand cupped her arse to pull her closer.

Fuck, if this was what her feeding from him was like he’d keep her in his closet and take Blood Replenisher ten times a day. He’d let her turn him now and bite as many people as needed to sustain her if she’d do this again and again...

He was so enthralled by her bite that he didn’t even realise he was kneeling on the floor until she broke away with a gasp. “No, no, no, I’m sorry, I’m sorry...” and then the vial was at his lips. “Drink it, Severus.”

Her voice brooked no argument and he swallowed the bitter potion down, wondering why his arms felt like lead. Her eyes were bright with worry, but her colour was better. She looked alive, flushed and healthy, finally.

“Don’t be sorry,” he said when his voice was working.

“But I am! I almost...I almost took too much...” If he’d been feeling up to it, he’d have rolled his eyes at her self-recrimination.

“But you did not,” he told her, and caught her hand. Weak as he was, she still followed it down until she sat next to him on the floor of her kitchen. “The potion will take effect shortly. You likely only took so much because you were starved.”

Hermione shook her head, but didn’t deny the truth of what he said. She could still taste him in her mouth, copper and something sweet and magical. She wanted more. Merlin help her, she _would_ be addicted to his taste now. “You didn’t fight me.”

It was his turn to flush. “Hermione,” he said, looking down at his nightshirt to draw her attention to the large wet spot, “I would let you do it every day if you needed it.”

“Oh.” Her voice was small and wondrous, and she almost reached for the spot, but stilled herself. So it had been good for him. It had been fantastic for her, too. All she had thought about was his taste and how it would be to have him inside of her while she fed. She’d felt an impulse to turn him as his heart had slowed, and that had been what stopped her. Her accidentally needing to turn him was one thing, one that he’d agreed to, but he hadn’t agreed to it full stop. “Still...”

“Cease your guilt.” Already he was feeling stronger. It wouldn’t be long until he was back to full strength. He pulled her into his lap. “I will recover shortly. And then, perhaps...”

And he kissed her again to demonstrate his suggestion. Hermione made a soft sighing whimper that set him aflame. The late hour and lack of sleep didn’t matter to him, not when his lap was full of witch. His hands skimmed her sides to hold her waist as she settled in against him and his rising erection. The position was so similar to Potter’s wedding that his mind was back there, remembering the slick feel of velvet under his hands, the din of the music, the safe darkness of the corner they’d found...

And he remembered too well that he had let her go when her friends had come looking for her, hadn’t contacted her after.

Well, he bloody well wasn’t going to do that now. She was here, he was here, and for once it seemed fate wanted him to have something he knew he damn well deserved. He vowed to himself that before his stay was over he’d find a way to keep her, even as her tongue slid into his mouth and scattered his thoughts for several moments. She was a skilled kisser, he admitted, and he kept up with her, moan for moan.

Her hands wandered, digging into his hair and scratching his scalp, down to his shoulders where she grasped them as she gyrated, digging into his needy cock. His hands followed suit, burrowing under her pyjama top to squeeze her breasts. She made a breathless sound, arching into his touch. Severus plucked her nipples, squeezing and rolling them.

Hermione pushed away from him, her eyes dark and luminous. “Would you like to find a bed?”

“Yesssss,” Severus growled. He was quick to his feet, and she followed him, pulling him behind her. The bedroom door was open and he barely had a chance to take in the layout or decor: his focus was entirely on the double bed.

Hermione kicked the door shut—a wise plan, he thought, given as he had no idea how long her cat would be outside for—and was struggling out of her pyjamas. He quickly yanked his own nightshirt over his head. She grinned at him as she cast aside the last of her clothes, her skin still rosy, flushed with his blood. “I’ve wanted this for years.”

“As have I,” he replied, his eyes drinking her in. She was stunning. He backed onto the bed, patting the mattress suggestively. “I don’t intend to waste our time this evening, Hermione...come to bed.”

His eyes were smoldering and she smiled, taking a moment to admire his lean, naked form before joining him. She crawled towards him, her breasts swaying. He quirked an eyebrow, feeling his length twitch against his leg. He stretched, trying to flex his scarred chest to its best advantage. She looked amused, but her eyes were still dilated, her nipples puckered from his earlier attentions.

Severus pulled her down as she reached him. Her skin was warm against his own and she laughed, a rich and throaty sound. “Mmm,” Hermione murmured. “Well, this is exactly where I want to be...”

“Oh? I would think there is somewhere else _I_ would like to be,” he purred. He cupped her face and kissed her again, until she relaxed, and he rolled her beneath him. Hermione laughed again, twining her fingers in his hair as she kissed him.

“You seem to be focused on my lips,” she told him.

Severus chuckled. “And where would you like me to be?”

She didn’t answer but urged him downwards. Everything seemed heightened and sharper. Maybe it was her vampiric nature, or maybe it was just the way he made her feel, but it felt like everything was made for this moment. Everything felt right and perfect, being under him, having him in her bed. She would have to figure out a way to keep him.

His mouth left kisses on her neck, suckling the tender skin where it met her shoulder until he left a mark that made her moan. Still, her hands in his hair pushed him onwards to her breasts. He obliged, his prodigious nose nuzzling her skin as he kissed and nipped his way to her crinkled areolas.

Severus discovered, to his delight, that she made the most tempting noises as his teeth tugged at her nipples, or any time his teeth caught her skin. He left marks on her breasts as he found just how much pressure she liked, and she liked it a great deal, judging by the way her legs shifted beneath him and she arched into each pull of his mouth. He used a free hand to pinch and twist the nipple not occupying his mouth until she cried out, begging him to move lower.

He loved feeling her writhe under him, the breathless little gasps and the way her fingers tensed against his scalp. She was everything he had dreamed of, had fantasized about for years now. His very best fantasies had starred Hermione in his bed. Or her bed. He wasn’t particularly picky about the locale. All he cared about was having her with him.

It felt like her breasts connected directly to the heat building between her legs. It had been years since she’d had sex—the last time had been before Harry’s wedding, and it hadn’t been very good, nothing like the night she’d been so close to Severus last time. That had been loads better, but this...he was certainly very good with his mouth, and she wanted him lower to see just how good he was.

“Patience,” he muttered, kissing down her stomach. He was determined to make this so good that she wouldn’t turn down his offer to stay. The duties awaiting him at Hogwarts paled in comparison to what he felt with her.

Hermione parted her legs for him eagerly as he settled between them. This was one of her greatest fantasies, having a skilled lover pleasure her with his mouth. And it was her most successful fantasy that had Severus starring as her lover. 

Severus looked at her sweet cunt; it was perfect. He pulled apart her outer lips with two long fingers, displaying her ripened little clit to his gaze. It wasn’t often he had done this, but he was a quick study. He started with caresses, licking his fingertips to let them glide over the sensitive little nub. He watched her face carefully as he played, finding that back and forth did more for her than circles, and she liked the firmer touches better.

He liked watching her face flush and her hands clutch at the bedclothes, the way her chest rose and fell sharply, the way her teeth worried her lower lip. The fangs didn’t bother him in the slightest. Quite the opposite: the sight of them made his hands tremble with the memory of how her feeding on him had felt. His cock, pressed between them against the mattress, ached.

Taking a slow, deep inhale of her scent, he lowered his lips to her clit, kissing it reverently. She jerked and he smirked. “Do try not to break my nose.”

“I wo-won’t!” The last word was keened as he sucked her little pearl into his mouth as he had her nipples earlier, flicking his tongue against it with the rhythm and strength he now knew she liked. He tried to take breaths through his nose when she wasn’t writhing against him, but truth be told he didn’t care as her thighs crept closer and closer to his ears. A finger slid into her depths and tested her slickness; he moaned at how drenched she was, doubling his efforts until she grew tighter and tighter as her release drew near.

Hermione cried out into the room, panting and clinging to the sheets as she tried desperately to keep herself still. She wasn’t particularly coherent anymore, everything in her focused on his mouth and the now two fingers inside of her. It wasn’t enough and she wept pink-tinged tears as her world narrowed to the bit of flesh being so beautifully treated by his tongue. With a final cry, she arched, her thighs closing as she came, shuddering and pulsing around his fingers.

When she was able to relax her legs he gasped for air before crawling up her body. Her legs wrapped around his lips and her head jerked in a little nod. Severus planted one hand by her head and used the other to guide himself into place. He could _feel_ the heat of her and slid into her slick warmth with a groan, his eyes closing.

“Fuck,” he whispered. Never had he felt so at home in a partner, fit so damn well.

Under him, Hermione gave a strangled laugh. He felt so damn perfect. She took both of his hands in hers so she was pinned against the mattress. “That _is_ the idea...”

Lazily, he opened his eyes, trying to convey without words just how good she felt. He wanted to speak, to tell her something profound, but instead he started to move. She felt like hot silk and slick fire around his cock, still tight from her earlier orgasm. It was bloody incredible. She made little noises of pleasure as he found the angle she liked before starting a rhythm. He wanted her to come again, to have her clench around his length.

Hermione kept his gaze for as long as she could, loving how dark and fathomless his eyes were, his pupils as dark as his irises. They were dark with lust and something else she couldn’t quite identify. Then he started moving faster and her eyes fell shut to concentrate on the sensations. It was so good. Severus was so attentive, and talented, and she loved how thick he was. Just enough to stretch and fill her but not wide enough or deep enough to hurt.

His thrusts were measured, learning what felt good to both of them, seeing how much she could take as his bony hips checked the tender flesh of her thighs. Clearly, she could take quite a bit, as she was begging him for more, meeting each thrust with just as much strength as he used. His eyes fluttered shut in pleasure. Fuck, it was good... she’d been slick when he’d entered her, then her channel had relaxed...but now, now she was tightening again and urging him to go harder, faster...and his control shattered.

Severus was slamming into her now, his hands leaving hers to curl around her shoulders for leverage as his body checked hers with each thrust. Hermione bit her lip on a sob, the urge to sink her teeth into him almost overwhelming. She wanted to keep him, and the instinct to do so was hard to fight as she came with a wordless cry of pleasure.

He watched her, breath burning in his lungs as he redoubled his efforts. She felt so damn good, and the view of her teeth made his blood hotter as he couldn’t help but remember the way it had felt to sustain her. Then her eyes opened, dilated and drowsy with pleasure and he lost himself in her. The cords in his neck stood out as his head flew back and his teeth clenched as he came with a cry; “_Fuck!_”

Severus was panting as his thrusts slowed, drawing out his own orgasm. Their bodies were wet and slick between them and the whole room smelled of sex.

He loved it.

Hermione pulled him down for a kiss, and for that matter, he rather thought he may love her.

* * *


	2. A Vacation to Live For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus needs a vacation. Hermione has been missing for years. Can they reconnect?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author’s Note:** Aaaaand part two. I was so pleased with myself for finishing I didn’t bother with a beta, so please forgive my exhausted, triumphant errors!

**A Vacation to Live For**

It was nearing dawn; Severus had fallen asleep an hour ago, after their rather exhaustive third bout. She had already let Crookshanks back in after his latest...well, she wasn’t entirely sure what he did, but hunting was definitely a part of it. He was awfully self-satisfied, carrying in a carcass for her to save for him the next night. 

Hermione padded back into her bedroom, checking the curtains reflexively. They were still sealed tight against the windows, and she curled up next to Severus with a soft smile. His eyelashes were incredibly long, and she admired the sweep of them against the pale of his skin. His face was relaxed, his breaths deep and even. Gently, she touched the little line between his dark brows and his thin lips pursed before settling back into the lax semi-open of sleep.

He was beautiful, she thought. Harsh and angular, but beautiful, crooked teeth and all. 

She could so easily love him. She wanted to keep him, stay with him. But she couldn’t risk returning to the Wizarding world. She knew it would be too easy for her to be discovered, and she knew just how well the Ministry would handle her change in...status. And she couldn’t, wouldn’t ask that of him, no matter how much she would like to. But, perhaps...perhaps he would keep in touch with her? Maybe they could be together. Merlin knew he could keep a secret... 

But could she ask that of him? 

She traced the curve of his cheek and even in his sleep, unguarded, he leaned into her touch. Hermione closed her eyes in preparation for sleep.

* * *

Severus awoke a few hours after dawn. It was unusual for him to sleep so late, but he blamed it on physical exertion and a combination of ‘vacation’ and being up into the small hours of the morning. Not that he minded; it had been well worth it.

He stretched carefully, watching her sleep. Well, what passed for sleep with a vampire, in any case. She was mostly comatose, her breathing and the pulse in her neck so slow she could easily be mistaken for dead. He studied her face, wondering that this was the first morning in a very long while that he had _wanted_ to wake up. 

And he wondered how he could convince her to see him again, to possibly keep him. He couldn’t imagine a boring eternity with Hermione Granger. It was madness of a sort, he knew, to suddenly want it, but it just seemed...right. 

And nothing had ever seemed right for him before; why not seize it now?

Apparating back to his bedroom with a quiet _pop_, Severus quickly set about locating his clothes. He had always liked proper-fitting Muggle clothes, if he were perfectly honest with himself. Robes were all well and good, but the right fit made a hell of difference. His selection of a sweater, button-down shirt, and trousers were all of the finest quality and tailored after-purchase. 

It was still too early for breakfast, so he showered, evaluating himself after in the mirror. Hermione had barely left a mark on his neck with her bite, but a turn and a craning of his neck showed several scratches along his back that made his ego swell. He looked better-rested, too, he admitted. Happier. Maybe even younger, though that was a flight of fancy he was quick to scoff at. 

Severus devoted the next half-hour to listing pros and cons to being a vampire, and the next after sorting his own emotions and motives for wanting to be with Hermione from the push her familiar/sire had given him last night, trying to ensure he was genuine. It would, after all, be just his luck. 

But no; he was surprised to find he truly did desire this, desire her. Yes, the push had helped, but it hadn’t been in opposition with anything he hadn’t already known or wanted.

Mind made up, Severus checked the time and swept down to breakfast, his stomach growling.

* * *

Breakfast had begun well enough. Delicious fare, well-selected tea. He had nothing to complain about, except, perhaps, the other guests, who had finally made it halfway through his second danish. His lip curled into a sneer at the ruckus they made, complaining loudly, as if it were Kevin’s fault that their flight had been delayed, that the weather wasn’t the best, and so on. 

And to think he’d wanted to try to remake himself! Being undead and cloistered away with Hermione would be so much more palatable.

They joined him at the breakfast table without even an introduction, the wife dumping her purse on the table. The husband dropped heavily into his chair and had the audacity to start to pull out a pack of cigarettes before he caught Severus’s glower and thought better of it. 

Suffice to say, breakfast soon became unbearable and he thanked Kevin before excusing himself to go for a ‘walk’.

Rounding several corners and ensuring he was unseen and unfollowed, Severus instead Apparated back to Hermione’s bedroom. She lay sleeping still as death, her cat now curled where he had been before departing to the bed and breakfast. Finding her brewing space was easy with the use of a Point Me spell, and he let himself into the small, well-appointed room. Her cauldrons and stirring rods were arranged by size and type, he noted with amusement, same as he had imposed in his classroom. Her stores were sorted alphabetically, which pleased him as well.

Blood Replenisher was a simple potion, one he brewed so often for the Infirmary that he didn’t need to consult one of the many recipe books she had lining the far wall, and he set about preparing his workspace. Efficient as he was, it took little time before he had a triple-large batch ready to go. He tested a sample out of habit, not doubt of his own skills, and was pleased to note that it was perfect. Even a small sample of his blood would be indefinitely sustained as long as she—or he—added more potion to the mix. 

Severus paused. He had wanted to wait to add his blood until she was present and he had had a chance to speak to her and feel out her opinions on keeping him around, but with further consideration it was possible that she could misconstrue his intentions. The last thing he wanted was her assuming that he was withholding his promised aid—and blood—unless she turned him proper. No, that would not do.

Selecting a clean knife, Severus held his arm over the cauldron and made a slice across the back of his arm with nary a wince. He was used to the sensation, the burn of adding a potion-maker’s blood to a cauldron, and once he was satisfied with his donation he sealed the wound with a flick of his wand. 

He looked around the lab and the minimal mess he’d made. It wouldn’t take long to tidy up, and then he would simply have to wait for dark to fall.

And for Hermione to awaken.

* * *

Hermione awoke, blinking to take in the dark room. As nice as it was to awaken without the gnawing hunger, she was alone, aside from Crookshanks. She didn’t hear the reassuring thump of Severus’s heart in the room, and the warmth had long left her bed. She wasn’t certain if she should feel hurt or not, but she did.

She buried her face in Crooks’ fur for a long moment, trying to sort her emotions. Was it wrong that she wanted to keep him? It was terribly quick, but she’d learned as a vampire to go with her gut. If something said ‘flee’, you fled. If something said ‘buy a cottage and turn it into a bed and breakfast’, you did. If something said ‘hire this person’, you did. If something said ‘feed’, well, then you considered the consequences but still. You fed.

Crooks took her feelings in stride, as he always did, before batting at the side of her head with one paw. She knew what he meant: “stop wallowing, it’s time to feed me”. 

Not that he couldn’t really feed himself, he just preferred when she did it. He was accustomed to it, after all. 

She padded downstairs and set about preparing the rodent he’d caught last night while she’d been in bed with Severus just the way the feline liked. Hermione honestly didn’t mind that her cat was her sire. Oh, it was awkward to think about sometimes, but it really didn’t change much, aside from the whole no daylight and drinking blood to live thing. He was, after all, a cat. And a half-kneazle, an uncommonly-clever one at that, one who clearly thought his witch needed Severus Snape to stay in her life forever.

Hermione was just washing up when Severus popped into her kitchen, wearing his dressing gown. She started, but smiled, wondering if her relief and joy were as transparent to him as it felt. 

“Good evening,” he said. Merlin help her, his voice was almost a purr and she dared to hope that if she broached the topic of a relationship of sorts he may be open to it. Then she could work up to asking if he’d like the make the arrangement...permanent. 

“Good morning,” she replied. “Did you get any rest?”

“Plenty,” Severus said. “And I should commend you on whoever you have hired as a cook. Dinner was delicious.”

“I should hope so.” She’d wanted to sound sultry, maybe segue into another round, but she was awfully proud of her hiring. “Mrs. Podmoore is a lovely lady, and very talented.” 

They stood there, not touching rather awkwardly for two people who had been _very_ intimate the night previous. Hermione flushed, one hand reaching up to tangle in her hair. Severus watched her, his expression inscrutable.

“I brewed for you,” he said finally. “Would you like to see?”

She brightened. “I would!”

He tucked her hand into the cradle of his elbow and escorted her to her brewing room. She wasn’t surprised to see the room was as spotless as she had left it, but she _was_ surprised to see that he had not only made her a massive batch of Blood Replenisher, but he had already donated to it. Her heart twisted and she hugged him impulsively, burying her face in the open vee of his dressing gown. 

“Thank you,” Hermione whispered as his arms wrapped around her. His nose buried itself in her hair and she tightened her grip—albeit carefully, so as not to crush his ribs. “This means the world to me, Severus.”

“You are welcome.” His voice was absolute silk and she shivered with renewed desire. “You should be sustained as long as you or I add more potion.”

_’You or I’._

Her breath caught in her throat and she looked up at him.

Her eyes were luminous and unguarded as he met her gaze. She was bright enough, he thought, to catch on to what he was hinting at.

“So...you’d like to keep seeing me, then?”

Severus couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped. “And more.” 

Hermione blushed charmingly, and she reached to cup his face in both slim hands, pulling him down to kiss her. It was a heated kiss that left her feeling rather scorched as he buried his hands in her curls, clenching his fingers until she could feel the tug. With a small moan, she kissed him more fiercely as she heard his heart begin to beat faster. 

His lips made her head spin, and his long, lean body against hers was warm. He made a noise, low in the back of his throat, that turned into a growl. Encouraged, Hermione slid her hands down his neck and chest to slip inside his dressing gown. She loved the feel of the crisp hair under her fingertips, the way his nipples pebbled under her touch. He hissed in pleasure against her lips, his hands leaving her hair to pull apart the sash. Severus tossed his robe aside and made quick work of hers, leaving them both bare in the cool air of her brewing space. 

She counted herself lucky she’d never had a twisted detention-fantasy until this very moment, or else she would have been nothing more than a quivering puddle.

As it was, her entire being narrowed and focused on touching him, exploring the minute changes a day had made to his body. 

Kissing Severus was wondrous. He melted into her kisses, pliant and willing. Hermione smiled against his lips, against the pulse racing under her fingertips. His breathing grew ragged and she felt caught in whatever magic was woven between them that made her feel so complete.

For his part, Severus tried to tell her through actions what he wanted. He surrendered to her mouth, her questing hands. Once more, the world was properly aligned when he was with Hermione...and he was done questioning it.

He made a needy moan as her lips graced his throat over this thundering pulse, and Hermione paused as she recalled precisely how it felt to sink her teeth into him, to feel the thrum of his magic sparkle through the blood that filled her. She panted against his heartbeat, trying to quell the urge to drink him in.

Long fingers buried themselves in her curls, cradling her head to his neck.

“Take what you need,” he murmured in a voice like liquid sin, and Hermione closed her eyes. His fingers tightened in her hair.

“Not yet,” she whispered back, a promise to the flow and ebb under her lips. She pushed him down to the floor of her brewing room, heedless of the table and its precious cauldron as she followed him down. She suckled the hollow of his throat, bruises blossoming. She nipped none-too-gently at the soft, salt-scented skin there and pinned his wrists above his head as she straddled him.

His cock jumped, poking thick and proud through his dressing gown, and she sank down onto it. She stared into his eyes, enthralled by the lust and something more held there before need overtook her and she snapped her hips, starting to move. 

Severus arched beneath her with a gasp as she engulfed his length. Merlin, but she fit so well around him. He gladly left his wrists in her grip as she rode him, using her hold as leverage to thrust up to meet her. He started at her almost helplessly as conscious thought deserted him in favour of the need they built. She was tight and wet around him, colour building under her skin as she fucked him. She bowed forwards and he tilted his head, offering her his neck.

“Please,” he rasped, lungs burning for air and his body aching for completion. “Take me, take me...”

His begging undid her, his willingness to give her everything, and as she came she let go of his wrists to support herself, teeth sinking into the flushed skin of his neck. Magic sizzled, dancing across her tongue and she knew without question that this was right. This man was _hers_. Her wizard, her mate. Forever.

Severus gasp as she drew his blood into her, feeling his magic and hers spiral between them both. It was better even than their previous encounters last night, the ebb and flow of it along with his strength. He bucked beneath her: not to dislodge her, but to continue to push his cock into her pulsing heat. He came with a strangled, wordless cry, his movements growing weaker with every thrust of his hips.

“Keep me,” he managed, the words hoarse and barely audible. 

She growled, the sound dancing along his skin. “Yessssssss...”

When Hermione drew back, her lips were red and she nearly glowed with his power and hers and he looked at her with reverence as his heart stuttered once, twice...and ceased to beat.

* * *

When he awoke he was cradled to her chest, the taste of her magic and copper blood thick in his mouth. Hermione was stroking his hair, fingers trembling, and he knew she was anxious.

“I’m here,” Severus said. The tension left her, but she didn’t stop stroking, though she did bend her head to kiss his hair. “That was...”

“It was,” she replied. “Do you feel alright? I didn’t mean to drain you.”

She didn’t sound the least bit repentant and he laughed, grasping her wrist to kiss the wound there. “Yes.” He kissed it again, singing a murmur of his own healing spell to leave no mark of where she had remade him. “It was glorious, Hermione.”

She looked down at him and he met her gaze. What she had said about everything being heightened was true; the riot of sex-crazed curls spilling down her back was a million shades of brown, her eyes were an unnameable colour he could stare into for hours. Even the texture of the floor under his naked legs and the fabric of his dressing gown was new and different. 

He marvelled at the clarity of even the wood grain of the table legs as he followed them up with his gaze to see the cauldron upright and stable. Good. They were going to need it.

“Yes we will,” Hermione said in reply to his unspoken thought. She seemed pleased. “I...will you be staying here? With me?”

Her uncertainty was endearing and he rose effortlessly to his feet before pulling him up and into his arms. He could certainly get used to that. 

“Where else would I stay?” He caressed her cheek and marvelled at the feel of her skin. “I will reclaim what I require from Hogwarts, but I am yours, Hermione Granger.” 

She shivered in his arm, her fingers drawing patterns over his chest as she blushed. “You don’t _have_ to stay with me if you don’t want to.”

“I want to. You made me feel alive,” he confessed quietly. “With you I am complete. Made for you.”

“My mate,” she said thickly, voicing the thought she’d had when she’d claimed him.

“Always.” And the word was a growl as he kissed her fiercely, taken with the urge to show her just what sort of a mate he was.

Too soon all she was aware of was the cool wood of her brewing table under her belly, her own clothes somewhere on the floor of the room. He was also naked, the crisp hair that peppered his deliciously lean body tickling the backs of her legs. 

Oh yes.

_His_ mate.

* * *

The papers announced the mysterious disappearance of Professor Severus Snape with more seriousness than he’d thought, though he tossed the Prophet aside in disdain after reading the article. He’d gone back to the school, continued his lesson plans, and quietly shrunk and packed the necessities. The rest, he’d figured, he could leave for his successor. 

Hermione was curled into his side, her hand running circles over the muscles of his leg as she hummed with satisfaction, and Crookshanks was out for an evening prowl-and-hunt.

Severus looked around their cozy room, completely pleased with his life. He smiled into the dim room with very sharp teeth.

* * *


End file.
